The green-clad woman was bored stiff.
She had been waiting for a decision at her regard for a few subjective centuries; not that her superior hadn’t warned her.
“ Maryam, our brothers and sisters in the Art, far North” had said Grandmother Nandi,” live in fear for their lives and hide their true being. You have been chosen as emissary, to propose an alliance to them : those who stop to grow are bound to whiter; we need a fresh perspective, new knowledge.
And they need help, and hope.
Be brave, child, but cautious.
Remember: those who have been bitten by a snake fear a rope. They will suspect a ruse, need proof and time...”

You were right nyanya...

Oh, the Initiated had been very polite, she was treated as an honored guest: albeit one who could decide to leave all of a sudden with the best cow in the herd. She was so weary of being followed everywhere that had begun to spend more and more time in the guest quarters reading again and again the few books she had been permitted to borrow from the Great Library.

I should have chosen a familiar before leaving, at least it would have been nice having someone to take care of.

She thought briefly about going to the stables to feed Agatha but decided against it. Some of this Northeners seemed to think physical work beneath a full-fledged mage, seeing her brushing down her donkey and mucking the stable, on her first day here, had almost given an hearth attack to the head-groom.
With a sigh she stood, her hands moved almost without conscious thought : ” Mwangacheza ngoma” she whispered. Four small globes of light appeared, and she started to juggle idly, killing time.

All of a sudden, two figures appear in the room as though out of no where. One standing, dressed in the clothing of the Brotherhood facing away from Maryam. The second laying, wounded, and suspended in mid-air by a simple spell. A raven at his side.

"Hmmph!" The standing figure says. "Missed again, blasted spell."

The man turns and regards you.

"Ah... Greetings. You're not of the brotherhood." He states bluntly. "Oh, sorry I don't mean to be rude. I am Thluclides (Flu-Clide-Eees), a member of the standing Council, I will have to learn your name later, I have to delive this man to the safety of our Hospital in order to examine him further." The man says, turning towards the door in your room, he exists the ground level building and into the beautiful courtyard with its rich flowers, grown with the aide of magic no doubt, and clean water ways and fountains.

Across from your room, sitting on a stone bench, a woman in some brotherhood clothing reading a book. No doubt to keep an eye on you. She glances up to your room, jumps to her feet and drops her book in the process.

"Thluclides!" The woman exclaims, Thuclides bends over and picks up the book.

"Try to take better care of these, for all we know they are the only ones left." He says handing the book back to the young lady and continueing on his way.

The lady nods and goes back to sit down only to see Cadogan's body floating out of the room behind Thluclides.

"Cadogan!" she exclaims.
"You can see him later, Lyria." Thluclides says as he continues down the balcony.

“ Basi!”. The globes disappear as the foreign wizard leaves her room.
Taking her time to admire the lush, carefully tended gardens, Maryam strolls towards the occupied bench.
“ May I ?” She asks the brotherhood woman sitting there.
Lost in thought Lyria nods absent-mindedly.
“ You seem worried, do you know the wounded one?”
“ He has been my teacher for a while”. The other woman tried to sound neutral, but her eyes told another story, Maryam chose not to comment; “He should be safe now, I gather your healers are most competent”.
“ It isn’t right!” Burst out Lyria, “ Why do we risk our lives everytime we leave the Citadel? What are we to deserve living in fear? Why do they hate us so?!”

“ It is not like this everywhere, Lyria” Answered Maryam, a bit taken aback by the other’s vehemence.
“ In my country The Three are honored, and arcanists, although few, are respected.
Sorcerers receive their calling in dreams. At the time of their passage to adulthood they dream an animal speaking to them, giving them a quest or a riddle, if the dreamer solves the riddle or completes the quest, the animal changes, revealing itself to be but an aspect of the left-hand sister.
The animal is what the Sorcerer’s familiar will be”

“ And Wizards?” Asked the younger woman, wide-eyed like a child hearing a fairy-tale.
“ In my city, Bamako, there is the Sankorè, the magic academy. Would be students flock every three years to the entrance examinations: one on twenty is accepted, and of those one on three completes the studies.
The accepted ones are clothed anew, on their entrance-day, and given a new name, to signify they renounce family and tribe affiliation; from that day we are in service of the people.
The new students are paraded trough the city, dancing, while the people sings and dances with them, throwing flowers and coloured ribbons. The procession arrives at the temple of the Three, and the students take an oath, vowing to use their knowledge only for good ends. Then they enter the academy the first time, while in the whole city they make merry till dawn.”

Maryam’s contralto voice had taken a far-away quality, as if she was seeing again the celebrations of her entrance day, the sound of steps approaching brought her back to the present.

"It does sound wonderful.." Lyria says in reply to Maryam. "If only it was true here. In some places Mages are even hunted down, captured, tortured before being burned alive. Its a truely sad tale." Lyria says with a deep sigh, plopping herself down on the bench and crossing her arms before leaning on her wrist looking over the gardens quietly for a moment.

The skies ahead cleared and the moon light shined down and reflected off the water in the ducts and ponds giving the garden a beautiful but cold apearance. Lyria sighs again before looking up at Maryam.

"Its beautiful here, i've been told it took years to get these flowers to grow all the way out here. The wastelands are not kind to plant life." She says dazing back off into the distance of the beautiful flowers where a man is tending to the blue and purple flowers by moon light with the aide of a simple light spell.

A gentle breeze blows over the garden and in the distance two figures appear out of thin air standing right in the flower bed. The man jumps backwards and falls on his arse, and Lyria sits up to pay attention. The two men are wearing clothing of the brotherhood also, and soon the gardener jumps to his feet and begins yelling.

"Get out of my garden! Out out out! Do you know how hard I worked on these flowers! Out out! Both of you!" The two quickly take a little leap out of the soil and onto the cobble stones of a pathway.

"Im sorry! Sorry!" Says the smaller and younger one.
"Don't be, it was my spell. I am truely sorry, I will see that you are helped in the restoration of this area." The older man says he then pats the younger boy, a neophyte it would seem, on the back urging him to get down and start working. "I have business in the courtyard, If you finish before the Moon is there..." He continues pointing towards the sky. "...Come and find me and we'll go over your cantrips, if not come and find me in the morning."

The young one nods, but his shoulders slouch at the mention of pyshical work. The gardener however seems more then pleased that he has an extra set of hands.

"Don't worry lad! When I first got here they had me cleaning the cobbles and pulling weeds!"
"So what has changed?"
"Ha! Respect your elders!" Says the old man, slapping the young one across the back of the ear.